Stay Strong
by refreshingbeverage
Summary: Easter Sunday in NYC, 1966. Horatio and Rick are six years old. Rated M for language and mention of child abuse. A little slashy, but given age, not much.
1. Ruth

Author's note: Inspired by Little Laurentum Light's "At a Glance". This takes place in NYC, 1966. Horatio and Rick are both six years old.

**Stay Strong**

**Chapter One: Ruth**

The young Rick Stetler's eyes fluttered open, a tapping had awakened him. Someone was tapping a finger against his temple.

"Rick," a familiar young voice chirped, "Rick, get up. Time for church".

The boy looked up at the smiling face of his older sister, not calculating that by the gentle way she woke him up and her cheerful attitude that their parents might be watching.

"Rick's not here," he mumbled as he pulled the sheets over his head, "he died last night. His last request was to be buried at the Imperial theatre. You heard him right, he doesn't want to go home, leave him here".

"It's not time to go home," his mother clarified from across the hotel room, "it's time for church, now get up".

"He doesn't want to go to church either," Rick grumbled as his older sister pulled the sheets off of him.

The two women stared at him as he curled up into a little ball, trying to hide in plain sight. Rick's mother, a woman with deep brown hair, big bright green eyes, and lips that never seemed to stop smiling, sat down on the side of her son's bed. She looked up at her daughter.

"Claire, your breakfast is in the other room, Ophelia will be over in a few minutes. And go fix your father's tie while you're in there, I think he brought the boring one".

Rick listened to his sister giggle and run out of the room. A hand lightly fell on his shoulder.

"Rick," his mother cooed, "I know you hate getting up for church, but think about how happy Uncle Irving will be the day you take your first communion… and later when you get confirmed".

"I don't wanna get confirmed".

"If you get confirmed, it means that you'll stop being dragged to church every Sunday".

The young boy sat up with a grin. "'_Every_ Sunday'?"

"Well… except when Uncle Irving is over," she smiled before she leaned in close and whispered, "but don't let him know that".

"Don't worry, I won't," he whispered back with a giggle.

"That's my boy," she chuckled as he sat up and looked at her with bright eyes. "Now take a shower and I'll lay out your suit for you".

***

"What do you and your mother have against a simple dark blue and black shirt and tie?"

"They're boring, daddy".

The elder William Stetler smiled as his ten-year-old daughter fiddled with the knot for a moment before finally pulling it off and handing him an orange tie.

"The orange one?" he sputtered playfully, catching a quick glance of his wife leaning against the door leading into the bedroom. "But why the orange one?"

"Because it's Easter, Bill," his wife smirked, "and I won't have you walking around in the same suit to wear to funerals".

She walked over and helped him adjust his tie as Claire responded to a soft knock on the door. Ophelia was a month younger than Claire, but they were both quite intelligent for their age. She had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and was never without a book. The two cousins plopped down on a sofa and immediately started discussing the dreams they had the previous night.

Before the door could swing shut, Bill's brother, Irving, stepped in. He acknowledged his daughter with a slight smile before he turned to his younger brother's family.

"We're going to grab a taxi downstairs in about twenty minutes," he informed his brother, "are you all almost ready?"

"Nearly," Bill shrugged, standing up to acknowledge Irving, "Ricky is just getting dressed, but he's wide awake".

As if on cue, Rick stepped out of the bedroom, smiling timidly at his uncle. His mother beamed proudly.

"There's my handsome little prince," she smiled.

Irving arched an eyebrow skeptically as his sister-in-law rushed over to fix the hair of the youngest member of the family. "A pink tie?"

"Yeah," Rick chirped, "I think it brings out my complexion".

The two girls started giggling while Rick's parents smiled and shook their heads. Irving, however, was a bit more skeptical. There was something indicative about a boy who spoke in such feminine terms. He had warned his brother about what such boys commonly turn into. Bill didn't seem to be bothered by it as much as he should be, calling it off as merely Rick being a little comedian.

"What's for breakfast?" Rick asked, immediately getting to mussing up the hair his mother just fixed.

"Nothing for you, young man," she said as she watched her handiwork go to waste, "you'll have to wait until brunch".

Rick pouted, although he knew it wouldn't do any good. He wasn't nearly old enough for things to go his way; although he figured that if he was patient enough, things eventually will. Instead of sulking, he went to the nearest mirror and started adjusting his clothes.

"Are y'all ready?" his Aunt Cindy asked, popping her head in.

"As good as we're going to get," Irving smiled as he nodded his wife into the room.

The kids all looked at Bill for instruction. Although everyone was in New York by Irving's pocket and invitation, Bill was the one who was best with kids. He nodded understandingly at the other adults and herded the kids out of the room, Irving on his heels.

"Ruth?" Cindy said gently, putting a hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"I thought we had to go," she muttered under her breath before responding. "What is it?"

"It's about Richard".

Ruth bit down on her tongue to keep the anger from flushing to her face. She was tired of hearing that phrase come from far too many. Teachers, her friends, parents of his friends, her own family; they all felt like they were more than obligated to give her their analysis of her son.

"What?" she finally responded, the harshness in her voice an order in itself to back off.

"You don't think he acts a little too… effeminately?"

"'Effeminately'?!"

"Well… for a boy he's quite… soft".

"If you're trying to say something about me or Bill, just come right out and say it. Leave Ricky out of this".

"Do you see a therapist?"

Ruth blinked, offended. "No!"

"I'm just saying that maybe you should talk to someone who could make him… you know… normal".

Her heart must have stopped for a moment. It didn't matter how often she heard those words, they always bit right into her soul. She knew that every child would be shoved down one of two paths. Rick could be shunned and laughed at; but he would grow a strong backbone and befriend those who admire him for his mind instead of his rank. Or, he could end up caring more about status and the material… but on the bright side, he wouldn't have to cry himself to sleep. Rick had long ago chosen to be himself, deal with the pain, and firmly believe that the mind, heart, and spirit should be valued above all other things. If Ruth felt anything, it was pride.

"Ricky isn't about to change for anybody," she said firmly.

"Couldn't you convince him t-"

"-And I wouldn't change him for the world. I love my son".

"If you really loved him you would stop this before he becomes a… a…"

"A WHAT, Cindy?"

The slightly younger woman stared at Ruth, wondering how someone on her husband's side of the family could marry a woman so dense. "A homophile".

"So? What do you want me to do about it?"

The words came out of Ruth too quickly. She already knew. It took Cindy long enough to recover from her moment of comatose shock to have to run to catch up with her sister-in-law, already half way to the elevators.

"_SO_ you do something about it. Don't just stand there, that's as good as encouraging it".

"It's his life". Ruth wasn't sure now if the was really disagreeing or if she was just spiting Cindy. She figured that Rick's more feminine traits would disperse over time, but so far that seemed inaccurate. The only reason why she would try to reverse what was happening was to spare him from morons like the one she was observing.

"A man can't love another man".

"But great ancient civilizations used the idea that they _could_ to build some of the strongest military forces in all of history. Just look at the ancient Greeks".

"Savages".

Ruth just stared at her in-law as the elevator made its ascent. "It's not the dumbest thing you ever said, but it makes the top ten".

"I can't believe you would just let this happen".

"I have raised Rick to believe that he should always be himself, because people who judge him aren't worth his time".

They stepped into the elevator.

"He's confused," Cindy grumbled, refusing to drop the subject, "he doesn't understand the roles of his gender".

"What would you say if he were your son? What could you do?"

"I'd tell him that I still love him, but God would want him to stop living in sin".

Ruth's eyes widened as she turned to the younger woman. She was in shock. "How… how could you lie to him like that?"

"It's not a lie! It's written right there in the bible. 'Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effemin-'".

"-Did you STUDY for this conversation?!"

"As a disciple of Christ, I-"

"-What the fuck is your problem?! He's not hurting anyone! He's gentle, he's understanding, and he's my little boy! Leave him alone!"

The profanity left Cindy as speechless as it was intended to do. They stood in silence as the elevator slowed , reaching the ground floor.


	2. St Patrick’s Cathedral

**Chapter Two: St. Patrick's Cathedral**

"It looked better at night," Rick observed, looking up at St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Bill would have told him to shush and appreciate the beauty of the church anyways, but he was right. The place looked a lot better from the outside when they had the stained glass window lit up and gazing out onto the streets. The light grey stone was hard to look at in the harsh overcast light.

The young book lightly grabbed onto his father's wrist, pushing back the sleeve to read the watch face. Only to remember that he didn't know how to tell time.

"It's 9:17 now, honey," Ruth smiled, giving her son a little pat on the head.

"When does it start?"

"The tickets say 10:15".

"We don't need tickets to get into our church at home. Is that why we can't get in now?"

"This church caters to a larger community, they need more services. We're going to the big one with the organ and choir. And more people would want to see a Catholic mass today than any other Sunday in the year… unless the Pope comes by".

"Pope Paul isn't about to stop by here anytime soon," Claire piped up, playfully poking her brother in the side to get his attention. "He's too busy doing Pope things, like wearing that hat. Wearing his giant Pope hat… what do you think that huge thing does to the wearer's head?"

Bill hushed her as his brother's taxi drove up, although it was hard for him to keep from laughing a bit himself. As much as he hated being a killjoy, he knew that Irving's years in the seminary meant too much to him to hear his own niece joke about their religion's traditions. Now he wouldn't be able to look at pictures of popes without his mind being dominated by their hats. And he had his own daughter to thank for that. She _would_ come up with something that would always make him laugh at inappropriate times.

Trying not to laugh in church is one of life's little joys.

Irving and his wife were far too serious to notice that.

"Well," Bill smiled and cross his arms in front of his chest, staring down his older brother, "we're here a half hour early, like you requested. Now what do you propose we do for the hour we have to wait?"

Cindy was still rattled from the conversation earlier. She decided not to tell her husband yet, this day meant too much for him to learn Ruth's opinions of the holy word. He knew they we're going to talk about Rick, but they weren't about to discuss what happened in front of Ophelia; both Rick and Claire were too close to her.

"I suggest," Irving started, holding up his hands in thanks, "that we praise God for inspiring the believers who came before us to create this beautiful monument to our faith".

Ruth decided that, since her brother-in-law was almost moved to tears, it would not be a wise move to roll her eyes.

Rick didn't care and did anyways.

Ophelia saw him.

She giggled.

***

Meanwhile, about a block away from the cathedral, another family was making their way to service. They were sprinting as fast as they could, considering they were in their Sunday best and wearing dress shoes. The lady of the house had taken off her powder pink pumps, holding them close to her chest so she wouldn't drop them as she ran at her two sons' heels. A business looking man with slicked back dark brown hair and little toilet paper squares left on his face lead the group.

"Why did you stay up so late last night, Raymond?!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The younger of the two boys stumbled slightly, the sound of his father's voice making him jump slightly. He would have fallen if it wasn't for his red haired mother and older brother catching him. The two redheads glared into the back of the man's head, wishing that he would trip instead. The youngest, a brunette, was just trying not to cry. Crying often just made things worse.

"If you wouldn't have slept in, we would have been able to get there in time! Mass is only one hour, we can't waste any time!"

"I'm sorry," he gasped, trying not to shout his apology over the blood pounding in his ears.

"Sorry doesn't cut it! We even bought tickets for this mass!"

They scampered across the street, seeing two families talking amongst each other. The young redheaded boy had eyes like a hawk, and he saw tickets in their hands. He quickly dug into his pockets and pulled out his own, praying that he wouldn't accidently drop it and slow them down. He couldn't run much faster than what he was going at.

The tickets read 10:15.

He checked his watch.

It was 9:20.

"Are the tickets supposed to say 10:15?" he wondered aloud as they stepped onto the same block as the church.

His father pulled his own ticket out.

_Fuck._

He slowed down, the rest of the family slowing down with him and gasping for breath. The lady of the house dropped her shoes on the ground and stepped into them before her husband could turn around and realize that they were off at one point. Both she and Raymond pulled out their tickets, only confirming what was already said.

"Well," the man stated matter-of-factly, "we're here early".

The rest of his family stared at him with that _'no shit'_ look on their faces.

"We always go to the 9:00 mass!" He said defensively, "I don't know why they would change it for this Sunday. I asked for the choral mass you guys wanted and they gave me this".

"I don't think there's any 9:00 mass today," the woman said softly, indicating a marquee in front of the cathedral that read 7:00, 8:00, 8:45, 10:15 (tickets only), Noon, 1:00, 4:00 and 5:30.

The man grunted. "They should have told us to come at 8:45".

"If they did that, we all would have overslept," she clarified bluntly, only to bite her tongue and quickly regret saying it. She decided to change the subject. "Look, Horatio," she said to her eldest son, "there's a boy over there who looks about your age. He looks bored talking to his sister and her friend. You should say 'hi'".

The little redhead nodded obediently at his mother with a loving smile. He gave his younger brother a little nudge, urging him towards the small crowd. Once they were out of earshot, Raymond let out a little sniffle.

"You're very brave, Ray," the redhead whispered.

"You always say that and I'm always not," he grumbled, trying to sound tough with his voice cracking slightly and giving him away. "Do you think he'll hurt me again because I overslept?"

"I hope not".

"You always say that".

"It ended up not mattering anyways… and I don't like the honest answer".

***

Rick was holding onto the arm of his mother's coat, something he only did when he was tired, bored, or scared. She guessed it was a combination of the first two and pulled him over to the steps leading up to the cathedral.

"Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?"

"I'm tired… and bored… and hungry… and thirsty… and bored… and tired".

She chuckled as she pulled her son close and tried to fix his hair again. He grumbled and pulled out of the way playfully. As much as she wanted to tell Rick that she loved him, he always gets a little worried when it doesn't seem to be prompted by anything. And with those big brown eyes, he could almost always get her to talk about whatever was on her mind. He wasn't ready to hear what Cindy had to say about him. There was no way in hell that he was going to keep quiet about it and not tell his aunt off, he didn't know what a homophile was, but he knew when he was being judged.

"Redhead," Rick mumbled, looking down the street and seeing a boy about his age approaching.

His mother looked up and saw him too. A young boy with the reddest hair she had ever seen. "Yep, he has red hair alright".

"It's pretty… I've never seen one before… only in books and movies".

"He's pretty or his hair?" She had to ask. They played on words so often that it would be strange if she _didn't_ say it. Although she hated reminding herself of the conversation she had with Cindy.

Rick studied the boy for a few seconds before finally saying, "both. I'm going to go say hi".

Ruth blinked as her son climbed off the steps and approached the young ginger. The boys' eyes met and they smiled at each other.

"You have red hair," Rick observed aloud. He never claimed to be good at starting conversation.

"You have a pink tie," the redhead snapped back, assuming that he was being insulted. Lots of people picked on his hair. _Compare me to Howdy Doody and I think I'll hit you._

"I like your hair… and I like my tie," Rick shrugged.

"Oh…" this was new. "Thanks. I… I like your tie too".

"Thanks," he grinned, "I think it brings out my complexion".

***

Ruth couldn't take her eyes off of her son and that other boy, sitting on the steps together and talking like they had known each other since birth. Who she presumed to be the redhead's little brother sat near them, bored out of his mind and waiting for one of _his_ friends to show up.

"Is he yours?" a soft voice behind her asked.

Ruth spun around to look right into the ocean blue eyes of a woman with hair a shade that can only be rivaled by the boy Rick was making friends with.

"Yeah," Ruth nodded, "I trust the other two are yours".

"How'd you guess?" she answered sarcastically with a little grin on her lips. She extended an arm, "Joan Caine".

"Ruth Stetler".

She picked up on the accent right away, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, we're from Oklahoma. My brother-in-law is studying to become a priest, he always wanted to come to mass here. Bill and I always wanted to go to New York with the kids".

"I hope you're enjoying yourselves".

"Oh we all are. I think Rick will have to be pulled back onto the airplane kicking and screaming, though. He could never want to leave your city".

She smiled and ducked her head slightly, "I just wish Horatio and Ray would realize how many opportunities are here. Not too many cities like this out there".

"Horatio?" Ruth echoed, cocking her head.

Joan looked away for a second. Plenty of other mothers have scolded her for giving him such an unusual name, but a name as common as hers often gets forgotten. Horatio was hardly someone anyone should be forgetting. She wished her husband would have let her name her second child too.

"The older one your son is talking to," she clarified. "I know it's an unusual name, but… I liked it. Horatio Alger, you know".

"It's a beautiful name," Ruth said gently, hoping that she wasn't bringing up a touchy subject.

"Thanks, I think it suits him. And… I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your son's name".

"It's Richard," Ruth smiled with a little shrug, "Named after my grandfather. Granddaddy always went by Dick though. My boy seems to be happy with Rick or Ricky".

"Well… he's absolutely adorable. Those big brown eyes are very becoming. And you _have_ to tell me how you got him to dress up, Horatio won't put on a tie if I paid him… although he likes the rest of the suit".

"Ricky just likes dressing up, and I trained him to wear colorful ties. His father still needs a bit of work though, although I managed to talk him into a nice orange one".

Joan smiled as she looked over at their boys. "I wish you could stay a little longer. I haven't seen Horatio so happy in years".

***

"What's Oklahoma like?" Horatio asked, genuinely curious over the boy with the southern drawl talking to him. "Do they all talk like Rhett Butler?"

Rick giggled at the reference, especially since someone told him once that northerners don't watch films like that. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a… I can't say the rest. Mom'll get mad".

The redhead grinned from ear to ear. He never met anyone so friendly and open before, if only he could stay a little longer. "What's Oklahoma like?" he asked again, still curious.

"Boring. They don't have the lights you have here. The buildings don't get taller than twenty-three stories. There are more museums and theatres on this island than there are in my entire state," Rick thought for a second before he tacked on a final, "and the people aren't as pretty".

"I've never been outside of New York," Horatio admitted, looking down at his feet, "Mom said that she wants me to see Ireland some time soon… but I don't think Aidin would let me".

"Who's Aidin?"

"My father," the boy admitted, wishing that Rick would just drop the subject.

"Why won't he let you? That doesn't sound very nice".

"He… umm… he just gets really busy and doesn't have the time to take us".

"Okay," Rick shrugged, wanting to ask what was bothering Horatio but deciding that he was uncomfortable enough.

The two boys looked up as they heard the congregation get quite chatty. The doors opened and they both rushed back to their mothers. Ruth smiled when she noticed that both her son and Horatio hold onto their mothers' arms the same way.

"Mom?" Rick whispered up to her.

"Hmm?"

"Can we sit by Horatio's family?"

She looked over to Joan, who was obviously just asked a similar question. Noticing the exchange of glances, Bill walked over.

"What's going on here?" he smiled, giving his son a little pat on the head.

"If Irving doesn't mind, we were curious if we could sit with the Caine family," Ruth explained, giving a little nod towards Joan, Horatio, and Ray, who was clinging onto his mother's skirt and swaying from side to side.

"Irv will probably want to sit as close to the pulpit as will be allowed. But if we all go in together, things might work out". He turned to Joan, "is it just the three of you?"

She shook her head, red curls turning golden in the sunlight, "there's also my husband, Aidin".

As she spoke, a tall and muscular man wearing a black suit and white tie walked up to them. He had light brown eyes with what looked like a permanent furrow etched into his brow. His presence was nothing short of intimidating, making Bill take a small step back, but still in front of his wife and son.

He looked down at his wife, this gaze forcing Horatio and Ray to let go of their mother. "Who is this?"

"There are the Stetlers, visiting from Oklahoma. The boys seem to get along, so we were wondering if we could… sit… together… ?"

The hesitation in Joan's voice made Bill weary of her husband and made Ruth sick to her stomach. She heard that tone before and knew that she was looking at a frightened woman and an incredibly insecure yet temperamental man. All she wanted in that moment was to hit him as hard as she knew he was hitting his wife.

She took a deep breath and looked down at Rick instead. As much as Aidin sickened her, she didn't want her eyes to give away her anger. It wouldn't be fair to Rick. Horatio seemed to really care for his mother, which hinted that he could never turn out like his father. Besides, it was rare when Rick made friends… probably because he didn't like doing the "normal" boy things.

Aidin's brow furrowed. He knew that he was being judged. Why didn't any wives know their place nowadays? It's like a conspiracy.

"I have no objections," he said, knowing the little game he had to play.

Ray and Horatio both shared a look before gazing confusedly up at their father. Joan had to bite down on her tongue to keep herself from doing the same thing. This was a front and everyone knew it… but it wasn't worth arguing about. And it wouldn't be fair.

"Okaaaaay," Bill said slowly, thinking as he turned to his wife, "I'm just going to get Claire, see where she and Ophelia are sitting".

Ruth nodded silently, wishing there was something she could do for Joan. Maybe just letting Ricky make her eldest son happy would be the most she could do.


	3. Innocence

**Chapter Three: Innocence**

Horatio led his younger brother and Rick up several flights of stairs to the Sunday school classes. His own parents liked to stay after and talk outside, and Rick's uncle was talking to the clergymen. Rick's sister and cousin were being led to the youth group by someone their age they met just before mass.

"What do you do in Sunday School?" Rick asked.

"Well…" Horatio sighed, trying to figure out what Mrs. Quinten would have for them today. "Ray'll probably be told the bible story. We will probably make little crosses or something. I really don't know".

The redhead reached the top of the stairwell and let his brother rush into the first room on the right, full of the other boys his age. He motioned Rick down the hall.

Brown eyes began to wander over the walls, looking at crosses and pictures of Jesus filling every sensible inch of the hallway. Anymore and the designer would be classified as mentally unstable.

From out the corner of Rick's field of vision, he noticed his new friend moving awkwardly. He looked over, Horatio was looking at the floor and absently running his hand over one particular spot, between his stomach and side.

"Are you alright?" Rick asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked over Horatio.

"Fine".

A little surprised by the curtness of this answer, Rick pressed on, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Someone hurt me," the redhead whispered, knowing full well that that might have already been too much said.

"Who?"

"It's not important".

"I won't tell anyone".

"It's not important".

Horatio focused his attention on the floor again as his mind began to replay old memories. It all started about a year ago, he couldn't remember how it all started, but something set the man off. A large hand was clenched down over his bicep, wrapping around the arm tight enough to leave finger shaped bruises. Panicked and feeling claustrophobic, Horatio began to cry. He begged his father to let go and tried to pull away, another hand came down on the side of his face to punish him for making a racket. Tears running down his cheeks and sniffling, Horatio quieted as Aidin knelt down and took the other arm in his hand, holing his son still.

Leaning in close enough for Horatio to smell the liquor on his breath, Aidin hissed, "I never wanted kids. Your mother wanted the family, not me. She's been a real bitch and I'm sick of her. Because of you and your brother, I can't leave. I don't like being held down by this fucking marriage and you crying isn't making things any easier".

The words stung worse than anything Horatio had ever known. His stomach knotted, making him incredibly nauseous from the stress his own father was putting him under. Breathing was getting difficult with his heart in his throat. He could do little more than nod, barely having the strength to do that.

"Then we understand?" Aidin confirmed more than he asked, standing up and looking down as Horatio slumped against the wall behind him. "Good. And say a word about this to anyone and I'll beat you. If that little hold scared you, then you should know better than to really cross me".

That was the first time his father turned on him. After that day, his mother started getting black eyes and bruises on her wrists. Ray began crying more and more at night, leaving Horatio with no other option than to sit with him in bed until he finally calmed down and fell asleep.

He wasn't as much worried about what would happen to him, as he was nervous over what would happen to his mother. Whenever Aidin was in a bad mood, he always managed to hurt her.

"Horatio?"

The redhead looked up into big brown worried eyes. He didn't realize that they had both stopped in the middle of the hallway, Rick waiting for instruction as to where to go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away again.

"You don't need to apologize just… um… where's the room?"

"I'll take you there".

***

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Horatio absently asked as he threaded a bead onto a narrow strip of leather he was fashioning into a bracelet.

Rick looked up from his own craft project. The two boys sat at a large table with around seventeen other six year olds, a bordering on middle-aged woman supervising. Little colorful plastic beads were rolling around and running into dice shaped beads with letters on them. The phrases "Happy Easter", "Jesus loves me", and "He Lives" were written in big letters on the board so the children could spell them on their bracelets.

"A psychologist".

"What's that?"

"Someone who helps people with the problems they have in their heads," Rick shrugged. "My friend Jake's dad is a psychologist".

"Oh, that's kinda like what I wanna do. I wanna be a policeman".

"Why?"

"I wanna protect people".

The brunette nodded as he kept working on his bead craft. He really wanted to make Horatio a friendship bracelet, but he wasn't sure if Mrs. Quinten would let him. But that didn't stop him from grabbing an extra length of leather and discreetly stringing the occasional bead onto it.

Horatio rubbed that same spot again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rick whispered low enough for them to be the only ones to hear.

Horatio paused for a long moment before whispering, "no, not really".

He raised his hand and asked to go to the bathroom. Mrs. Quinten opened the door for him as he walked out. Rick sadly looked down at the secret friendship bracelet he was making. Snatching a bead with the letter K on it, he strung it on. The bracelet now read "RICK". He tied it off with a tight knot before stringing a few blue beads on and tying them off.

Several minutes later, and Horatio still wasn't back. Rick was getting a little concerned. After grabbing a bead with an H on it for the friendship bracelet and a powder pink bead for his Easter bracelet, he too asked if he could be excused. Pocketing the friendship bracelet, Rick followed the signs to the nearest boys' room.

***

Horatio stood alone in front of the mirror, his jacket off and his shirt open. There was a large bruise in that spot he had been rubbing, along with several purple or green bruises scattered over his stomach and around to his side. He was examining them all carefully.

"Tell me what happened," Rick softly requested, closing the door behind him.

Horatio only looked away from the mirror for a second before turning his gaze back to his reflection, buttoning his shirt back up. "I can't".

"I won't tell anyone, I swear. I can keep a secret".

There was no response as Rick quietly approached the other boy. He stayed silent, trying to find the right words to say in this situation. Unable to find them, but not wanting Horatio to just stand there helpless, Rick spoke.

"Whoever did that to you is really mean".

The redhead sniffled and nodded as the tears he struggled to hold back began to fill his eyes. A hand fell on his shoulder.

"It's alright to cry".

As soon as those words left Rick's mouth, tears began to slide down the redhead's freckled cheeks. Uncontrollable sobs came from deep within him and echoed in the small bathroom. The next thing he knew, arms were wrapped around him and his face was buried in a mass of brown hair.

"Please tell me," Rick urged, "I want to help you… you shouldn't have to cry anymore".

Horatio's breath shook as he tried to speak, "I… I…" he took a shallow gasp before he continued, "I wish my daddy loved me again".

With those words, Rick came very close to learning what it was like for his heart to break. The feeling of Horatio's sobs weighed on him; and even though they just met, he truly cared about the other boy.

"I wish you could come home with me," the brunette whispered, his lips nearly touching Horatio's ear, "I think my daddy could love you. Then we could be brothers".

"You're really nice, but what about my mom and my real bother? I don't wanna leave them alone with him".

Rick fell silent, lightly running hands down Horatio's back and through his silky red hair. He had no idea how to handle this or what to say. Never before in his life had he ever even imagined a situation where a father would hurt his own son. He didn't know that there were boys his age who weren't loved by one of their parents. It just wasn't right. If he were the psychologist he wished he could be, he would know what to say to this. But he wasn't, so he could only do what his mother had taught him about comforting people.

As soon as he felt Horatio's breaths even out, he turned his head and placed a light kiss on the other boy's cheek.

The redhead felt his heart leave his throat to flutter around in his chest. Although he felt Rick's head rest on his shoulder again, the spot where his lips were tingled happily. His first kiss. A smile unfurled across his lips, Rick suddenly seemed to be perfectly benevolent.

A blush filled Rick's cheeks as Horatio identically returned the favor. His mind swarmed with all the times his mother or sister had kissed him in that exact spot.

_I always wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a boy._

It felt good.

They pulled back and gazed into each others' eyes, not wanting to leave comfort they created. Eyes drifted to the lips that kissed their cheeks, wondering if they could experience that again.

Horatio looked away for a moment. "Boys are supposed to kiss girls".

"You can make pretend I'm a girl".

"I don't want to".

They stood there in silence for a few seconds before Rick spoke, "I won't tell anyone if you won't".

As soon as the word "okay" was out of Horatio's mouth, Rick crashed their lips together. Blue eyes widened in shock until their owner realized how good kissing Rick felt. His head was spinning and butterflies appeared in his stomach… and he loved it.

Lips met over and over again, savoring the gentle sensations. They took each other's hands, fingers entwining and wrists lightly touching.

It was innocent…

…peaceful.

"**Horatio! Stop that at once!"**

The boys quickly stepped away from one another and turned towards the voice, their cheeks equally flushed. A man who was in his late twenties stood at the door, glaring down at them. He seized their wrists in his hands.

"You should know better than this. Come with me".

Horatio barely had enough time to grab his jacket as he and Rick were pulled out of the bathroom and down the hall to the church office.


	4. Apologies

**Chapter Four: Apologies**

"Where's Father Johnson?" Horatio quietly asked.

He and Rick were sitting in front of a large and ornate desk, the latter of the two staring down at his shoes. Behind the desk was an enormous leather chair and a painting of Jesus.

"He's at mass right now," the man who led them in responded, pulling white robes over his clothes. "I've called in Reverend Mone to speak with you two while I look for your mothers".

In any other case, he would have called in their fathers, but… given Horatio's situation, adjustments had to be made. He sounded pretty tormented at home, it was no wonder why he would be a little confused.

Horatio watched as the older man walked out the door.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Rick whispered, not turning his gaze from his shoes.

"I don't think we were supposed to be kissing".

"Why _are_ boys only supposed to kiss girls?"

"I dunno".

Horatio was about to add on "kissing you was pretty nice", but he decided against it. Maybe they were being punished because it looked like they were sneaking out of Sunday school. However, he had the sneaking suspicion that that wasn't the reason why.

"I made you a friendship bracelet".

Horatio looked over and saw Rick holding up his handiwork, unable to keep himself from smiling. He never had a friendship bracelet before.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to finish it," Rick continued, "I thought that I'd be going back to the classroom… but I guess I'm not".

"'RICK…H'," Horatio read aloud.

"I'm sorry".

"You can call me 'H' if you want," the redhead whispered with a little smile.

"Okay… H," Rick added with a quiet giggle, "hold out your wrist so I can tie it on".

He did, and in a few seconds the leather band was secured to him. A smile crossed Horatio's face at the slight weight of it. They fell quiet again, Rick watching the other boy admire his new bracelet. Footsteps were heard just outside the door, most likely the Reverend. The brunette took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing terribly.

"I like you, Horatio".

The other boy only got the chance for his eyes to widen in response before Reverend Mone opened the doors to the office.

"Horatio," he noted, surprise in his voice, "I have to admit that I didn't expect to see you here. And who is this?"

"My name's Rick Stetler, sir".

"Stetler… son of Irving Stetler, I presume?"

"No," the brunette answered with a little shake of his head, "he's my uncle".

"I see".

The reverend stepped around until he was behind the desk and looking down at the two boys. He had salt and pepper hair and had to be in his mid fifties. Kindly blue eyes peered out from behind round steel rimmed glasses.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked gently, noticing that neither of them were looking at him.

Horatio shrugged while Rick shook his head.

"It is my understanding," he continued, "that you two were kissing each other in the boys' room. Is this true?"

They nodded.

"Now… you may be too young to understand this but… what you did was a sin".

Rick bit his tongue to keep from asking how.

"You see… there was once a city by the name of Sodom, where the men only enjoyed the company of other men. It was a hedonisti- um… a place of pleasure for pleasure's sake. Wise men such as Moses warned their followers to stay away from it because God was not with the city. God sent two angels to Abraham's nephew, Lot; they were to find at least ten good people living in the city. The ten people couldn't be found and God burned Sodom and its sister city of Gomorrah to the ground".

Rick looked up, _what? Did I miss something here?_

Horatio cocked an eyebrow. _Isn't Abraham the guy who nearly killed his own son?_

"And so it is said," Mone continued, "that men who… enjoy the company of other men, rather than women… will never enter the kingdom of heaven. I know you're both very young, so I think you can be saved".

A split second later, the doors to the office swung open. Joan and Ruth both walked into the room and stood behind their sons.

"Ricky, sweetheart," Ruth whispered to him, "what's going on?"

"Horatio? What happened?"

"Mrs. Caine," Mone addressed, "Mrs. Stetler… I must inform you that your sons were found… kissing… in the bathroom".

Joan raised her eyebrows and Ruth paled. She truly didn't mind if Rick was or not… she just hated Cindy being right about it.

"I don't know if you are familiar with the list of those who shall not inherit the kingdom of G-"

"-This is ridiculous!" Ruth snapped, "Come on, Ricky, let's go".

"Madame," the reverend said warningly as he stood up and watched Rick's mother guide him off the chair and half way out the room.

She spun around, nearly growling, "you know what? I liked this whole God thing back when he was actually benevolent".

Rick turned to give Horatio one final sad glance as his mother pulled him out of the room.

The three remaining fell quiet as they listened to the pairs footfalls getting quieter and quieter as they walked down the hall and out the door.

"With all due respect, Father," Joan said softly, helping Horatio to his feet, "I think that this is something I would rather discuss in private with my son".

"I hope you can take this issue seriously".

"Don't worry, Father, I shall".

The young redhead felt his stomach flip flop as his mother led him out of the office and into the hall. Once they were out of earshot, he tugged lightly on his mother's arm.

"He was just comforting me".

"Comforting you?"

"I," he looked away for a moment, "the bruises..."

"Horatio," she sighed, "what did I say about examining them in public?"

"I know I shouldn't have, but they were really bothering me. I started crying and he just wanted to make me feel better. He held me. He kissed me. He gave me a friendship bracelet. And he said that he liked me. And he's a good person, so I don't see anything wrong with that".

A hand gently reached down to pet the top of his head. "There's nothing wrong with it… but you know that you can't do it anymore".

"Why not?"

"You know your father".

They made it nearly to the front doors of the cathedral before Horatio whispered softly, "I think I like him back".

***

It was late that evening. Rick was back in his everyday clothes and was packing up his suit. He smiled at it, knowing that he could never possibly wear it again… it's sacred now. His hand reached up and lightly touched the peach fuzz of his cheek where Horatio's lips were earlier. It made him blush.

"Ricky?"

Rick turned around to see his mother standing in the doorway. She walked over and sat down on the edge of her and Bill's bed, she looked tired.

"Can we talk about what happened today… at the church, I mean".

Rick nodded, closing his suitcase and jumping up onto his own bed.

"You kissed that boy… Horatio?"

He smiled at the name and nodded. "And he kissed me".

"Why?"

Rick bit his lip, "he's… having a hard time at home. He started crying and I wanted him to feel better". He paused before he added, "I really like him".

"Ricky," she sighed, going against all her morals and instincts, "you know I'm fine with this, but it's because I love you and I'm your mother. Other people won't be as welcoming to the idea. They won't treat you right if they knew. Look I know you want to live the way you feel is right, but…" _oh God… I'm a horrible mother_, "I have to ask you to hide this".

Rick cocked his head. This was hardly what she had been teaching him about individuality his entire life. "Why?"

"Because if people knew… they won't treat you right. And I don't mean that they'll just tease you… they could actually hurt you". She knew she was putting it lightly. She knew full well that men were killed because of it. "I don't ever want to see you hurt, Ricky. I love you".

"So… I can't kiss any more boys?"

"If you find someone very special, if you make sure nobody sees it… you may. But please be careful, your life could depend on it".

Rick sat there, looking sadly down at his feet. "I'm sorry, mommy".

"Ricky… you didn't do anything wrong".


End file.
